


Broken Arrows

by seruphim



Series: The Tale of Kaitlyn Hawke [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Best Friends, Canon-Typical Violence, Custom Hawke, Drug Addiction, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Lyrium, Lyrium Addiction, Magic, Sarcastic Hawke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-28 08:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6323059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seruphim/pseuds/seruphim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not everything has to be done alone. A new weight rests on the shoulders of the eldest Hawke child: keeping her family alive. It'd be a lot easier if she wasn't a mage. And if she hadn't been forced into smuggling. And it would definitely be easier without the sudden outbreak of violent addicts. A new friendship might be the start of crawling her way out of this hellhole, even if he's prone to lying about how they met later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stop and Smell the Piss

**Author's Note:**

> A very special thanks to my two awesome beta readers: AO3 user TurboNerd and Tumblr user sugarburnt.  
> Chapter 1 was edited on 4/7 as a result of me gaining a clearer picture of the story. I'm sorry for any inconvenience.

How one managed to lose a whole shipment of drugs, piss off a client, and still have their head at the end of the day was a mystery. Yet here Kaitlyn was, a living defiance of what should be. Or maybe just Fate's pawn.

The whole day had been a disaster and she was surprised this hadn’t happened sooner.  Kaitlyn had never smuggled anything in her life unless you counted kittens. She and Bethany had found an abandoned litter and hid them in the barn. However, Athenril did not deal with smuggling kittens. With her most notable client now pissed off, the elven woman was anything but pleased. Kaitlyn still held value as a mage, but she was treading thin ice at this point.

There was nothing she could do about that, though. For the moment, the Ferelden refugee retreated back to Lowtown. Given a few days, Athenril would calm down and give her a new job. After what the woman had paid to get the Hawke family into Kirkwall, she wasn't going to just let the mage sit around.

Still, going home to a cramped, smelly house (and 'house' was a generous term) was not appealing. Gamlen always had a snide remark waiting. Carver, when he wasn't brooding, found every little thing to complain about. Loudly. And mother- Maker, mother. She hadn't been herself since they fled Lothering. None of them had.

As Kaitlyn rounded the market corner, a large sign caught her eye. The Hanged Man. She passed the bar every day, the smell of piss and ale twinging her nose hairs. It looked like a dump and smelled like a sewer. Still, it looked more appealing than home right now. Kaitlyn angled toward the entrance.

The door swung open with a protesting creak. A strong waft of the bar’s distinct shit-scented stench filled her nostrils. Kaitlyn turned, hand covering her mouth and nose, and took a moment to compose herself. Carver smelled better than this place! Someone followed her in and pushed passed with a shove. Caught off guard, she stumbled and caught herself on a table.

“Watch it, dog!” The Marcher sneered and continued towards the bar. She only saw his back but he was taller than her. He was unkempt and thin as if he only ate whatever they served here, but the wiriness gave him an edged look. Maybe she should’ve just gone home.

“You want somethin’, sweetheart?” Three men sat at the table she had run into. Each looked at her with yellowed smiles and roaming eyes. "I bet I could put a smile on tha' face." Oh, she definitely should have gone home.

“No, I think I’m good, actually. I’m just going to… go over there.” Her head tilted towards the bar before she slipped away. Kaitlyn picked her way to the other side, wary of the ones eyeing her a little too long. At the counter, she slid in-between two men and waited for the bartender.

And waited.

Kaitlyn leaned over, hands pressed to the edge of the bar, and craned her neck to see what he was doing. A clawed hand dug into her shoulder and yanked her back.

“Hey, can you help a guy out?” The man leaned forward with an imploring look. “I’ll let ya hear the song if ya do. I just  _ need  _ some  _ more _ .” Discolored, uneven skin covered parts of his face and arms. And his veins, Maker, his veins. They protruded from his body like bright blue snakes. Any vibrancy he might have once had was now lost beneath a ghostly pallor. He was thin and shaking, his nails dirty, and for a moment she didn’t register his request.

“I’m sorry… what? Need more what?”

“The stuff. Whatever they gave me. I don’t know, I just need it!” He seemed irritated that she didn’t know and his nails dug into her skin. “I don’t wanna stop hearin’ the song!”

“Stop!” Kaitlyn twisted her arm in an effort to get away from him. His grip tightened and he drew closer, pleas falling from a sandpaper tongue.

“Listen, just listen,” he rasped. “I gotta have it!”

“I don’t have it!” The bar jutted into her back angrily, but she had nowhere to go. She had never felt a grip so tight before.

“You bitch!” The curse grated past his throat to fall through gritted, yellowed teeth.

The air snapped as a thin object shot through the crowd. A crossbow bolt embedded at least a hand’s length into the wall near the man. From it, the stone split down its length and the resulting chasm threatened to spread farther.

“Bianca doesn’t like it when people start acting stupid.” The crowd turned as one to find a dwarf with a crossbow. Almost half his height and the width of his arm, the crossbow was an impressive sight.  And unlike most of his brethren, the dwarf had only stubble along his jaw. “It's a shame how often that happens.”

The grip on her arm released as he twisted his head, dilated eyes shifting their focus from the human to the dwarf. Kaitlyn took the opportunity to get away. He snapped back, reaching for her but his grasp falling short.

“No! Come back! I need to hear it!”

With her out of his reach, he grasped the bolt instead. Despite his fragility, he removed both the arrow and a good chunk of the wall with deceptive ease. A shower of stone and debris sprinkled to the floor before he hurled it at the crowd. “You don’t understand!”

Most of the patrons had stirred from their seats at this point and several now scattered. Kaitlyn dodged behind a pillar herself, using it as a shield from his wrath.

“Friend of yours?”

The man with the crossbow.

“Oh yeah.” Kaitlyn scoffed, voice thick with sarcasm. “Best friends. He’s just a little upset at being turned down.”

“Now who’d turn down a guy like that? Bianca would love to take him out.”

“Be my guest.” She gestured around the pillar.

His rampage continued through the room with an accompaniment of threats and accusations. Everything from the chairs to the mugs of ale had earned his ire. It was their fault the song was fading, their fault he didn’t have what he needed. Any attempt to subdue him he shut down with swift violence. The patrons started to clear the bar or search for refuge.

He flipped table after table, sending ale and cards to scatter across the floor. Now that she looked at him again, his protruding veins stretched even farther across his skin. They now clawed their way up the side of his face, stretching it thin, and wrapped around his arms like roots. Every now and then he would pause from his destructive frenzy to search the room. For what, she wasn't sure, but in those moment he looked scared.

The dwarf stepped out, crossbow in one hand but not aimed. He held out a supportive hand to show he meant no harm. "Listen," he started, "just calm down. Let’s talk about this and—"

“No!” The man jerked towards him, bulging veins pulsating a vibrant blue. “You don’t,” he heaved as if his lungs had trouble taking in air, “you can’t take me back there!”

Jagged steps propelled him towards the dwarf, who attempted to ready his crossbow. He only had it half raised before the man slammed him into the wall and Bianca clattered to the floor.

Kaitlyn sprang into action and hooked her arms under their attacker’s. She ignored the feel of his distended veins against her skin and focused on her goal. But no matter which way she pulled, his hands remained steadfast around the dwarf's neck. If she couldn't pry him off, this wasn't going to end well.

Thinking fast, she concentrated her mana to her palms. They glowed a faint green and a magical symbol burned brightly on his chest, fading as quick as it had appeared. His movements crawled to a creepy stillness until he locked into place as if a statue himself. Now it easy for her to reach over and pry his fingers open, releasing her new found ally. He slipped sideways, staggering for a brief moment. It took him a moment as he regained both his footing and the ability to breathe.

Her spell had paralyzed the man. From head to toe, he was nothing more than a living statue. It was the only spell she could think of without hurting him. And yet, the magic appeared to only exasperate his the condition of his veins.

Both human and dwarf stared in transfixed horror as they spread at a steady pace across his skin. Up his hands, around his eyes, down his legs. No sound escaped him, but a deep pain radiated from his eyes.

“It’s making it worse,” Kaitlyn whispered in a horrified voice. “I have to stop it!” She dispelled the magic with a wave of her hand. A howl of pain tore from the pit of his chest before he collapsed, arms crossing his chest.

Kaitlyn kneeled with him, hands outstretched to heal him in any way she could. Whatever he had done, he didn’t deserve this. No one did.

But there was nothing she could do. He gave one more grating gasp and went limp against the floor.

“No!” Kaitlyn grasped his shoulders and turned him towards her. Maker, please don’t be dead. She pressed a healing spell to his chest, willing it to work, to find some part of him that she could fix, but only felt an empty echo. His heart had stopped.

Behind them, the crowd had begun to filter back in with curious glances. Several had taken refuge in the back rooms or behind the bar. Others had found furniture to hide behind, and some had just been too drunk to care. The shuffle of feet made her shoulders tense and she turned to see their gazes. Hopefully, no one had seen too much.

Kaitlyn adjusted him in her arms to press two fingers to his neck. Though she already knew the answer to her unspoken question, she had to confirm it. A moment later, she looked back.

"Nothing.”


	2. This Doesn't Happen Often

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very special thanks to my two awesome beta readers: AO3 user TurboNerd and Tumblr user sugarburnt.

Kaitlyn always wondered if there was a room smaller than Gamlen’s, and now she had her answer. The cells in Kirkwall prison were  _ much  _ smaller.

“Did you hear about the human and the dwarf that got arrested for murder?” Kaitlyn spoke in an easy-going air, appearing unconcerned with her surroundings. She was experienced with faking being okay. Her eyes drifted to the adjacent cell, to her only companion: the dwarf from The Hanged Man. “They caught 1 and 3/4ths of their suspects.”

There was a scoff next to her. “Don’t tell me that’s your idea of humor, Hawke.”

She started to retort, but her mouth snapped shut. “How do you know who I am?”

His voice was closer this time, rich with a warm humor. “There’s not a lot I don’t know. Varric Tethras," he introduced himself, "at your service." An irritated sigh filled the pause. "Or I would be if we weren’t in these cells.”

Kaitlyn’s hand rubbed the nape of her neck with a sheepish grin. “I'm sorry you got dragged into this. I swear these kinds of things don’t happen to me often.”

“You mean getting jailed for murder or getting attacked out of the blue.” She could see him shift through the bars, strips of light painting his dark figure. 

“Both. I mean, well, I’ve never been jailed.” She couldn’t say she had never been attacked, but there was a reason behind those. Most of the time.

“Working for Athenril’s group, I assume you’ve been in a lot of situations like this.”

That was an understatement. There was that time she made a half hour trip only seconds long thanks to the guards on her tail.  And that time she and Carver got high on a damaged shipment of goods. On accident, but it made for an interesting trip back to Kirkwall. Thank the Maker it was  Aveline who found them.

But today took the spot of 'Most Ridiculous Shit To Happen Ever' with little effort.

She was more concerned with how  _ much  _ he knew, though. “So are you a secret admirer then? I’m very flattered, but we only just met and I don’t know anything about you.”

His laugh rumbled from the other side. “Sorry. Knowing about people is kind of my business. All my sources say you’re worth knowing.”

Kaitlyn wasn’t sure about that, but it made her smile just a little. “Worth enough to get thrown in jail with me?”

He scoffed. “Nobody would come looking for me here. I might consider staying longer if they put in a bar. A real one," his hand tapped against the cool metal bars, "with alcohol.” There was a soft noise and then the distinct sound of cards shuffling.

“Do you…” her brow furrowed, “is that a deck of cards?”

She could hear the smirk in his voice. “You play Wicked Grace?”

Here? Now? Kaitlyn looked around as if to confirm they both saw the same surroundings. Well, hell, why not? It wasn’t as if they had anywhere to go. With a shrug, Kaitlyn gestured for him to deal, and the two made themselves comfortable on the floor.

He dealt the cards between the bars, finally giving her a closer look at his features. There hadn't been much time between all the fighting and magic flinging and trying to stay alive.

Blond hair and a scruffy jaw defined his wide features. A cleft chin, several lines, and thick brows marked his tawny gold skin. The dim light illuminated three golden earrings, two on the left and one on the right. Kaitlyn didn't know much about dwarves, but he was hardly what she was expecting.

“So tell me about yourself, Hawke.”

“I thought you already knew everything about me." She studied her beginning hand. Great, one of each suit. Just her luck. Her mouth twitched into a frown before blue eyes darted up to Varric. It was hard to see him in the dim lighting of the cell, but he seemed relaxed as ever.

Varric hummed as he sat down a card and picked up another. “Just that you get shit done with a very  _ special  _ set of skills.”

If she wasn’t a mage, she would’ve sworn that was an innuendo. “For my family,” she clarified. “We’re refugees from Ferelden.” Rumors of war, betrayal, and the Blight still loomed over Ferelden.

She discarded a Serpent card to reveal yet another card from the same suit. Wonderful. Her mouth twitched again.

“I’m sorry," he started, his tone measured and soft. "That couldn't have been easy." Though it was his turn, his focus was on her rather than his cards. "How did you escape?"

While Varric took his turn, Kaitlyn toyed with the edges of her card. “Well, we should have left sooner.” She knew that even back then, but father died only a few years ago. Losing her brother, without even trying, wasn’t an option. So they waited.

“My brother was part of King Cailan’s army at Ostagar so we waited for him to come back. The Wardens passed through Lothering, and then they left.” She shrugged. “Everyone else started to leave and we knew the Darkspawn were getting close. We couldn't leave without him, though.”  Kaitlyn sighed and discarded the Dragon’s Tooth Dagger card with a half-hearted toss. “When he finally came back, we were the only ones left.”

Varric's head tilted with curiosity. “Lothering to Kirkwall is a long journey. Did your family go north?” South to Gwaren didn’t seem logical. North to Highever, or Amaranthine, though long and would take weeks, was somewhat safer. It was also not through a horde of darkspawn.

Kaitlyn chuckled. “No, that would make too much sense. Circumstance forced us south and then the horde forced us to continue south. We met Aveline and,” her words faltered. It didn’t feel like her place to talk about Aveline’s late husband. “and then,  _ of course _ , we ran into darkspawn. But not just regular darkspawn. One of those giant ogres.” Her hands came up to indicate its size, unintentionally showing her hand. “Plus a small horde of the regular sized ones.” Or it felt like a small horde.

It was hard to tell his expression through the darkness, but there was a note of concern in his tone. “What happened?”

Kaitlyn sighed and looked down, focusing on her abysmal hand for a moment. Two Serpents, two Daggers, and a Knight.

“There were five of us when it started. Me, mother, my brother and sister, and Aveline.” She dropped her Serpent card. “And four of us made it here. Although with how things are, I’m not sure Bethany would have been safe here either. She...” Kaitlyn hesitated, voice trailing before picking up again. “She had my same set of skills.”

Varric nodded, discarded a Dagger, and drew another card before switching the topic. “There are a lot of cutpurses and thugs in Kirkwall, and not all of them are in Lowtown. But that guy…” He shook his head with a sigh. “Can’t say I’ve seen shit like that before.”

Kaitlyn hadn't either. But in the country, she didn’t have many concerns. Bandits would threaten every once in awhile, but the Bannorn's men kept them at bay. Insects on the crops posed the biggest problem, or they would have if she wasn't a mage. The Templars were a much bigger threat.

Still, no violent outbreaks of large-veined men.

“Do you have any idea why his veins were like that?”

Varric shook his head. “Beats the hell out of me.”

After all the drugs she had been around the past few months, it seemed very possible he had been on something. Or coming off something. The color of his veins, though similar to Lyrium’s, didn’t mean much to her. Correlation didn’t mean causation, and nothing in father's books indicated magic could do that. Still, her spell hadn’t mixed well with him.

She couldn't wrap her head around it, but she had to if she wanted her name cleared.

Kaitlyn discarded the second Serpent, hoping another wouldn’t take its place, and drew again. Instead of one of the suit cards, the Angel of Death stared at her. Well, that had been a short game. She faced it towards Varric.

The creak of metal bars seized her spine. She turned, and it was the only thing that saved her. The blade meant for her side sank into her abdomen, sinking passed skin and muscle. She gasped in pain, stars popping in her vision. 

Smoky shadows burst as the assassin’s cloak fell away in wisps to reveal piercing marigold eyes. Their cover now blown, and the surprise attack wasted, they needed to try again. Circumstance demanded Kaitlyn to move, to attack, to do  _ something _ , yet she couldn’t. An overwhelming pain seized the nerves of her stomach and spread, holding her.

The blade jerked out, making her muscles spasm, and it was the push she needed to act. She twisted on the floor, right arm raising, and retaliated with a blast of ice. It caught the assassin full in the chest and pinned them to the wall. Now free, her hand snapped over her wound to apply both pressure and healing energies in equal measure.

“Hawke!” Varric’s hands wrapped around the bars as if he could remove them and get to her. His eyes darted to their unwelcome guest, but then did a double take. An intricate golden emblem rested on their clothes. “What in the hell is the Coterie doing here?”

“I’d like to know why he’s trying to kill me!”

“Thought you said this didn’t happen often?”

“It doesn’t! I don’t— What are you  _ doing _ ?”

Varric had bent down to mess with the heel of his boot. Instead of answering, he pulled out a lockpick. “Never leave home without a backup plan.” He waved it at her and moved towards his cell door. “Keep him distracted for a bit, Hawke.”

“What? Have you always had th— shit!”

The magic dissipated in a whispering echo, leaving no trace behind. The assassin fell to the floor and in one fluid motion, stood, drew a second dagger, and closed in to press their attack. Precise professionalism fueled their movements, each strike intended to kill.

Kaitlyn jerked to the left, then down, and fell on her ass before lunging sideways. Any closer and she wasn’t going to have dodging space left. Hell, she couldn’t even form the beginnings of a spell at this rate. If she just had a moment to cast something!

Pinned to the corner, there was a realization that there were no options left to her. This was the final strike if she couldn’t pull an escape out of her ass within the next few seconds. On instinct, both her arms came up in self-defense.

And… nothing.

At least no blade going through her. Short, gruff chokes resonated off the walls, compelling her to look.

Blood dripped from the tip of a guard’s longsword that rested inches from her face. The assassin choked again, blood bubbling out of cracked lips. The daggers slipped free, clattering to the stone floor with an echo. Horror mixed with agony in clear, summerset eyes. Their unsteady, sluggish hands moved towards the blade.

The sword retracted, the force of it making the assassin stumble backwards with it. They swayed before falling sideways, revealing Varric.

“You,” Varric exhaled , “alright?”

Kaitlyn nodded with wide eyes, her words thick in her throat. She tried to breathe them out but only exhaled with a shudder. She almost died.

The sound of footsteps descending the stairs echoed from the door. The guards. All that commotion was sure to get their attention.

A chair clattered to the floor next and they both turned, their movements jumpy. A previously unseen trapdoor flew open, scattering dust and overturning the chair. Varric and Kaitlyn’s eyes met, panic mirrored in each other. More Coterie assassins?

A mop of black hair emerged, and a familiar face followed it.

“Carver!” Kaitlyn scrambled to her feet, ignoring the shaking of her legs and her still open wound. “What are you doing?”

“Rescuing my sister.” He gestured to the trap door, and before she could ask how he even knew about it, the doors on the other side burst open.

“What’s— Stop!” Only two guards came to investigate and both proceeded to draw their blades. “Get back to your cells!” The older looking of the pair carried the weight of authority. With a flick of his hand, he directed the other to flank the group while he covered the door. Despite the layers of gray dusted through his hair, a sharp awareness lined the edges of his stance.

“Jeven,” the younger guard glanced at the older man, “I can hold them. Get Captain Ewald.”

There was a soft whistle as a glass ball soared through the air. It shattered across the stone, the shards of glass lost beneath the sea of smoke that erupted from it.

“Quick!” A strong hand grabbed Kaitlyn by the elbow and pulled her through the trapdoor.


End file.
